Pauline turned to her friend. “Flo, you aren’t going to believe—?” she began.
But Irene cut in, “In phantoms? Of course she isn’t. What’s your theory, Judy? You always come up with something.”
“I will,” Judy promised. “Just give me time. It would help if we knew exactly when she disappeared.”
“Wasn’t it just about the time that misty haze covered the set?” Flo questioned. “What was it, anyway, some new kind of vapor to make people vanish?” she asked nervously.
“It was only steam,” Irene reassured her. “I couldn’t see what was going on backstage from where I was standing, but I had a good view of that steam kettle. There was nothing unnatural about it.”
“No?” Flo sounded dubious. “Maybe not, but there was something strange about Clarissa. Vanishing like that—it’s utterly fantastic!”
“I have a few fantastic theories of my own,” Judy admitted. “If she’d had time to use that golden hair wash—”
“What do you think’s in it? Vanishing cream?” Pauline was laughing. Her theory was really the only sensible one, Judy decided. She was eager to talk it over with Peter. He knew so much more about the workings of the criminal mind than she did. There were patterns of behavior. Would Clarissa’s behavior fit one of them? Somehow Judy doubted it.
“I suppose we shouldn’t have trusted her,” she said at last. “Her innocent appearance didn’t fool the cashier in the restaurant. But I’m not sorry if it fooled us. Peter might not agree with me, but I believe in trusting people. Clarissa may be involved in some sort of confidence game. And yet, somehow, I believe she is a friend. I mean a real one.”
“You’re a real friend to her, Judy.” Irene shook her head. “It’s beyond me. I suppose she’ll go home, wherever her home is, and we’ll never see her again. It was an experience, anyway.”